


Falling, Floating and other words Dean Winchester Can't Articulate

by MissChriss



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Dom Castiel, Dom/sub, Fluff, Impact Play, M/M, Sub Dean, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 07:03:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11270454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissChriss/pseuds/MissChriss
Summary: Dean and Cas are in a middle of a scene. As the play, Dean falls deeply and Cas is there to catch him.Mostly told from Dean's perspective, while he is drifting in that wonderful world of subspace.





	Falling, Floating and other words Dean Winchester Can't Articulate

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Humpday Wednesday Weekly 1k Fic Challenge over at the SPN BDSM Fanfics & Art Appreciation group on Facebook. Of course because I'm verbose AF, I went a bit over 1000 words. My first foray into writing Supernatural. All the mistakes are mine, un-betaed and whatnot. Also, I own nothing. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**

Hazy...

If Dean had to describe what he was feeling, that was it. Hazy. Floaty might also be apt but he’s really in no condition to think that critically. The sounds of leather skating across his skin is muted. His body is thrumming and each blow adds a throb he can’t quite place. 

Dean can’t tell what is being taken to him. Sure, he could hazard a guess. Cas is nothing if not particular with his toys. He knows that the strikes land but he can’t place where. Twenty minutes ago, he would have been able to tell you the exact spot, the approximate force exerted and exactly how long the impression left would last. So much can change in twenty minutes. 

Usually Cas doesn’t let him go this deep. Cas is always sure that Dean can tell when and where the heavy crop falls. Always sure that Dean is acutely aware of how the tips of their favourite flogger curl around his side the second before it pulls away, leaving the string and burn in its wake. This time is different. This time, Cas knows that Sam is away for the weekend and that Dean’s blood had been screaming to be taken apart. This time, Cas knows he has the entire weekend to put Dean back together again. 

Dean isn’t sure how long it goes on for. All he knows is the blissful buzz of pain, endorphins and a soft murmur of Cas’ voice. A blow lands that is sharp enough to pull Dean closer to awareness and he jerks forward before his head falls back in pleasure. 

That’s when Dean feels it, the rope. He’d forgotten about the rope. His upper body is suspended and if he really focuses, he can feel this toes barely brushing their bedroom carpet. His eyes shoot briefly to the ceiling to remind himself how Cas managed to string him up. His vision is fuzzy and can’t focus on anything concrete as the popcorn ceiling blurs above him. The rope brushes the soft skin of his neck by his ear and Dean is surprised how soft it is. His head lolls lazily against the braided fabric while he giggles slightly to himself. Even here, maybe even especially here, Cas wants the best for him. The thought pulls him deeper below the surface and Dean gives himself over even more completely. 

It’s only when Cas stills his hand that Dean feels the plug inside of him. This is another one of their favourites. Wide and heavy enough to tug relentlessly against his rim with the slightest of movements. Short enough that it leaves Dean grasping and clenching, leaves him wanting. Dean can’t tell if the vibration has been turned on or if what he is feeling is his own shaking. Either way, the toy shift inside him in agonizingly small increments and thinks he can hear himself keening. 

Cas slips two finger between the thick leather collar and the soft skin of Dean’s throat. He curls his fingers around the worn leather and pulls sharply. Dean’s head pulls up quickly and bobs slightly. 

“Dean, what’s your colour?”

Cas feels Dean’s whimper against his knuckles more than he hears it. His crooked fingers pull Dean closer as Cas leans in. Dean’s eyes are unfocused and swimming with unshed tears. 

“Dean!”, Cas barks sternly. 

Cas can see the moment that Dean sees him. 

“Colour?” 

Dean gives him a syrupy smile and hums one of the few words he knows he would be able to give no matter how deeply he falls for Cas in moments like this. “Hmmmm, green.” 

Dean sees Cas’ soft smile for a brief second before he feels those fingers leave his throat. As Cas removes his grip on the collar, Dean’s head falls back to rest again the braided heaven that he is currently calling home. 

Dean can feel hands sweeping along his torso, down his sides and resting on his hips. Cas’ lips burn hot against his inner thighs. Kisses, the slick slide of tongue and the sharp bite of teeth leave Dean trembling. Cas kneels at Dean’s feet and guides the suspended man’s thighs over his shoulders. As Cas’ shoulders take the brunt of his weight, Dean can feel his hands start to tingle as some of the pressure is released and slight blood flow starts to come back into his limbs. 

Cas slides his nose along the crease of Dean’s inner thigh until he can feel Dean’s precum paint his cheek. When he feels Dean’s shudder and hears the broken whimpers that burst forth at the slight touch, he knows that it’s time. 

Heat engulfs Dean’s cock. Dean feels the back of Cas’ throat as it convulses and spasms around the head of his cock. Cas’ nose brushes the dark thatch of curls as he forces Dean deeper into his mouth. Taking advantage of Dean’s distraction, Cas slides his hand under to rest at the base of the plug firmly seated inside of Dean. He gives the base a few hard taps before glancing quickly up at Dean. He can see Dean’s euphoria peaking and smirks. Cas rips the toy from Dean’s body just as he swallows deeply. Dean shrieks and bucks wildly as his orgasm rips through him. Dean twitches and trembles as Cas frees his hands. As the rope slides free and cascades to the floor, Dean crumples into Cas’ arms. 

From there, Dean comes back to himself in snippets. With orange juice and goldfish crackers. With whispered words of praise that he only catches fragments of. With the warming steady embrace of his Dom, his husband, his angel. Dean braves a brief glimpse of the bedside table and it is littered with the remnants of their play; a well-used butt plug, the flogger that Dean loves and hates in equal measure, empty juice boxes crumpled carelessly by the lamp and most importantly, the trauma scissors that Cas always has within arms reach when playing with rope. That last one makes Dean smile. His Cas is a stickler for safety. 

Somewhere in the back of Dean’s mind, he knows what’s in store for him tomorrow. Regardless of how diligent Cas is with aftercare, Dean can’t go as deep as he went for as long as he went without the effects reverberating the next day. He knows that when his senses come back online it will be too much. Chills will wrack his body, his clothes will feel too tight, his skin too sensitive for even a thin sheet to cover them. Shame and guilt will creep in to pollute the beauty of it all. Dean knows all this, but he also knows that Cas will kiss him until he is breathless, hold him through it all and order pizza when Dean feels up for it. 

That’s why Dean is happy to float for a little while longer. When Cas asks him how he’s doing, Dean sleepily nestles his nose deeper into the curve and answers in the only way he can.

Smiling as his lip brush against Cas’ collarbone, “Hazy, baby. I feel hazy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think! Looking forward to writing more for this pairing. Destiel FTW! 
> 
> Also, on a completely unrelated topic, did I just totally date myself with the use of FTW? Only time will tell.


End file.
